


Clarity

by 13thDoctor



Series: Stay With Me [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick ponders his feelings about Daryl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> I liked writing for Daryl better, and it was actually supposed to be just one story about sad, one-sided Daryl, but I got a few requests for more and decided I would do this one. There might be a final part where they actually get together, but that depends on the popularity of this piece. Enjoy!

_The wisest advice to me that I didn't teach  
Was to lock up the heart, but keep the key within reach_

 

Since the beginning of the apocalypse, Rick Grimes had not been certain of anything except that he needed to survive. He had never known for sure if he was going to live, to die, to die, to fight, or to run, however. There were no secure thoughts, no irrefutable ideas.

But he was certain that he was in love with Daryl Dixon.

The realization came slowly at first. A casual touch, every clasp of hands and brush of shoulders left his mouth dry and body burning. When communication came from a few words or tacit understanding, and the pair of them could compel the group to any necessary action. They were lethal, but still soft with each other, with their family. When their gazes met, Rick forced himself to look away for fear of Daryl noticing the adoration in his eyes. Every run, every hunt was agony and bliss all at once, the potential touch but the uncertainty of it all staying his hands. It was unbearable, and each moment without Daryl in his arms felt far worse than the last.

Oftentimes he fantasized about telling him, and he mostly allowed himself the comfort of reciprocation rather than repudiation. Their life together would be akin to something out of a film—romance and danger and drama in a world of the dead. The sheriff knew it was idealistic, but he craved his dream almost as much as he craved the courage to confess his feelings to Daryl.

Another certainty- he could _never_ tell him.

Discouraged and resentful, Rick tried every day to carve Daryl Dixon out of his life. His efforts were miserable at best; each biting remark became friendly banter and any false insult could never leave his tongue. On days when Rick secluded himself, ignored every member of the group to go on perilous runs, they always drifted together. Daryl would request to accompany him, or Rick would--- against his better judgment—invite him along, and they would be alone together for hours. Finally forced to separate, Rick felt a piece of his heart break when he watched Daryl walk away. Crossbow swinging casually, arm muscles rippling and gleaming with sweat, he was the most beautiful thing had seen in a long while.

Of course, if he ever made so foolish a move as to tell Daryl, he would ruin them. The younger man would exit his life, and the hollow void he felt now would only swallow him whole. Carl wouldn’t understand, and the group would never forgive him for such a selfish, stupid act. Rick endured in silence, in quiet tears alone in his bunk, or he endured in complete cacophony, metallic blood mixing with salty tears as he tore into walkers. His rage and his depression were one in the same, solved only by violence or sullen isolation.

He threw his body into his mattress, punching the firm cushion in frustration. He considered how immature he must look, throwing a tantrum in his cell because his crush was unattainable. He was indescribably ashamed of himself, but the thought of never having Daryl drove him to such embarrassing measures constantly.

Calming down, he settled back more peacefully, fingers tracing the raised buttons and wires protruding from the worn bed. Even covered in blankets, the structure was decrepit and uncomfortable. His mind wondered immediately, the thought of Daryl beside him, sleeping peacefully, or underneath him, unwinding in unadulterated passion, made his breath catch. Faint heat rising to his face, he rolled to his side and stared at the peeling white wall, willing the images away. Daryl’s dark blue eyes swam tauntingly before him, his dark hair curling between Rick’s fingers merely a dream, and his body molding against his a coveted delusion.

“Dammit,” he muttered into the sheets, but the curse barely conveyed his despair.

A few tears fell from his eyes, sliding over his lips in delicate streams and into a wet pool beneath his chin. He had never hated the alleged weakness of love, because he considered it a source of courage and conviction, but he loathed the hysterical mess into which Daryl turned him. Daryl was his salvation and his eternal damnation, a tantalizing figure placed before him that he was never allowed to reach. He was certain of this, at least, that Daryl would forever haunt him until he lacked the strength to withstand him, and then he would vanish from Rick’s life in one cruel instant.

He was certain he would never call Daryl Dixon his.


End file.
